Child of Shadows
by finchily
Summary: Callista Ming left the world of Nam Chorios and then simply - disappeared. Decades later, she emerged, taken over by a being of pure, incredible evil... but are things really as they seem? AU... or is it? Characters: Callista and Abeloth.
1. Prologue: A Vision

**Thank you so much to my marvelous beta passon!**

* * *

A child is born to walk the sky

A love he has, a love denied

And she shall wander far and wide

And at her will, destruction dies.

_-Shadow Woman Prophecy_

* * *

Deep in the shadowed socket of darkness that huddled on the edge of the galaxy, a blue star burned, bathing an overgrown courtyard on the surface of its single planet with a harsh, unforgiving light. A little girl stood atop the roughened stump of a broken column, pale hair whipping about her face in an unnatural wind. Despite the sunny day, the air was chill and damp around her, as if her very presence threw it into shadow. She smiled, revealing teeth as sharp as knives.

Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she stared at the paved ground. This particular courtyard was where _She_ would land her ship. In a hundred years, perhaps, or a hundred thousand, the little girl could not tell – but _She_ would come someday.

The girl had foreseen it, and she was never wrong.


	2. Chapter 1: Leavetaking

The rusted metal-mesh steps let out muffled clangs beneath her booted feet as Callista made her way up to the hatch of the _Morning Glory_, waving a half-hearted goodbye to the secondhand vessel dealer who had sold her the ship. The Rodian lowlife was probably quite happy, she reflected – he had overcharged her by at least a couple hundred credits.

Often, common sense was as useful as the Force when it came to knowing someone's intent. That didn't stop her from missing it desperately, however.

Alone, without the Force… she wrenched her thoughts back to the present and stepped through the hatch, sealing it behind her.

The inside of the _Glory_ was about as impressive as the outside: not very. Callista sighed, dropping her worn travel bag on the floor of the main living quarters, squinting through the puff of dust it raised.

Scratch that. The _Glory _was the farthest thing from impressive she'd ever seen. The furniture in the lounge area consisted of a dilapidated sofa and a wobbly coffee table; both bolted to the floor. An alcove off in the far corner contained a single sleeping pallet, and the door beside it led to a fresher cabinet that had likely seen better days. The corridor to her left led to the cockpit, the pilot and copilot seats upholstered in a lurid pink that reminded her of tsaelke blood, blossoming in a cloud over Chad's waves, as the mothers gave birth in the spring. The great sea lizards, native to Chad's oceans, would writhe as they birthed, slapping fins against the sides of the boat.

Home. Home was Chad, after all; or at least it had been. Home was the _Glory _now, she supposed, and she felt the seats strangely appropriate.

She sank into the pilot's chair and activated the ship's computer. It was an old model, maybe twenty or thirty years out of date, and the lines of blue text that flashed on the screen brought back memories of a time when she had seen data like that in her thoughts – or rather, it had _been_ her thoughts, or still was, the remote binary calculations of an artificial intelligence ingrained in her consciousness. She hit the switch to raise the landing ramp and initiated the preflight check. Engines: green. Repulsors: green. Hull integrity: 100%. Shields: 83% and climbing. Nav computer: check. Hyperdrive: check. She was good to go.

Callista felt the rumble of the repulsorlifts through the cockpit floor as they lifted the _Glory _into the air. The sparse, yellow grass of the landing field was already far below as the engines kicked in, and the creaky old ship rocketed towards the stars. She brought up a galactic map on the screen of her datapad and began plotting jump calculations.

First stop, Jinet, to refuel and purchase supplies. Next, the Maw.

* * *

"_Callie, Callie don't go, don't leave me Callie, Callie…"_

Callista jolted awake as Luke's voice trailed off, relegated to the dim, insubstantial place dreams occupy upon waking. She stared at the ceiling, gray curves barely visible in the darkness. Despite the reckless certainty that suffused her every moment, the simple knowledge that she had done the right thing, she still missed him once in a while.

It wasn't that she was attracted to him – heavens no! She saw too much of Geith in the shape of his arms and in the solidity of his shoulders to ever feel that way. Damned Geith, who told her when she said she didn't love him that she must, she had to; Geith, whom she died for, Geith who betrayed her. Luke was kind, of course, and for that she was grateful, and loved him: loved him as she might have loved a friend, a dear family member whom she held in her arms when he was scared to sleep and who would hold her in turn.

He wanted more, and she couldn't give him that. Couldn't do that to herself, when it came down to it. She was selfish and heartless and hurt him so, so badly; but the truth was that a year was a very long time to pretend. Especially to one's self.

She sighed and got up. It was nearly morning anyway and she doubted she'd be able to go back to sleep. The caf maker in the galley clattered wildly as she turned it on. It was a homelike sort of sound, and it made her smile as she sipped steamed nerf milk and munched on a sweetberry scone while she pored over star charts spread out across the battered countertop.

The navicomputer let out a shrill double-beep, and she scrambled to get to the cockpit. As she entered, she looked at the screen and grinned. The _Glory_ would arrive at Jinet in an hour. She had panicked over nothing more than an early reversion warning.

* * *

"I already told you, my name is Callista Ming." She sighed.

The Jinet Primary Spaceport's customs official had whisked her away when she failed to provide an ID, and her vague story of losing her wallet had so far proved insufficient.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but we'll need to take a genetic sample," the customs agent, a stocky Ithorian, replied.

"Look, I lost my ID. Shame on me, I won't do it again. Could you just let me through?"

"As I said, we'll need a blood sample to do a DNA test. If you could just put your hands on the counter here so we know you can't reach your weapon – just precautionary, you understand…" As Callista rested her hands on the countertop she felt a sudden prick in the center of her palm.

"What the…" She jerked back and looked at the counter. A slim needle was retracting into a socket cleverly disguised in the wood. "Dammit!" The official tilted his head, a gesture equivalent in Ithorians to a human's grin.

"Works every time."

"Kriff you!"

"Language, Madam Ming – or should I say Cray Mingla?"

The string of curses that followed would have made even a Corellian bartender cringe.

"I was under the impression," said the Ithorian, once she had calmed down, "that you were dead."

"Uh… no. No, I'm not."

"May I ask why a Jedi of your standing would pretend to be dead?"

"Um… undercover work. _Jedi_ undercover work."

"I see. And why have you come to humble Jinet?" For once, Callista was able to answer truthfully.

"Fuel."

"Well, we can of course provide your fuel at no cost - it's the least we can do after all the Jedi have done for the galaxy."

"Thank you."

"Now, about your ID -"

"I actually did lose it," she lied calmly. "I fell victim to a pickpocket on Bespin. It's caused me no end of trouble. Do you think you could possibly…"

"Well, the documentation office is right next door. I don't think Ilri's in today, but I can print a new card for you right now if you'd like – I mean, one can always make an exception for a Jedi, right?" Callista smiled.

"Thanks." The agent pulled out a form.

"Now, if you'll print your name here – the name you want on the card, that is – and your homeworld here, and your age…

* * *

"Will that be all, miss?" The grocery store clerk, a young Twi'lek, sounded incredibly nervous as he glanced shyly up at her from behind a crate of dried food.

"Yes, thank you."

"All right… um… that'll be one hundred sixty-two credits." Callista handed him one hundred seventy.

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, miss!"

"No problem." She gave the loaded repulsor cart a shove and watched as it sailed over the dusty ground. She headed across the spaceport's landing field towards the _Glory_. The refueling had finished two hours ago, all paid for by the port itself. The customs officer had merely mentioned the word "Jedi" and everyone had jumped to help her.

She glanced up as a cloaked figure approached her across the bare ground, her hand going instinctively to the butt of her blaster. Her time with the Listeners had taught her never to take chances.

"Madam Ming, your ship is fully fueled and ready for takeoff. You asked for notification, yes?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Do you require assistance loading your supplies?"

"No, but thanks for the offer. I will be taking off in half an hour – are you with spaceport control?"

"No, but I can give you the frequency."

"That would be great."

"All right. It's Alpha-K-Theta 495-73. Do you want me to write it down?"

"I think I've got it – that was 496-73, right?"

"495."

"Right, five. Got it."

"Good. If you'd notify Control before leaving, that would be good – we don't want you colliding with anyone on your way out. It'd be a big mess, and I'd be the one saddled with the paperwork." She grinned.

"I'll try to spare you that."

"So, where are you going?" He was pushing, she knew, curious about the mysterious woman who might or might not be a Jedi.

"The Rim," she replied, purposefully vague. "Hutt Space."

"Any system in particular?"

"Um… probably stop on Klatooine." If he bothered to check her vector, it would back up her story. Klatooine and the Maw were right next to one another.

"Well, I'd best be going now."

"Right. Remember that frequency."

"Got it, thanks. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

* * *

"Morning Glory_, you are clear for takeoff."_

"Thank you, Control."

"_Clear skies, _Morning Glory_. Jinet out."_

"Morning Glory out." Callista flipped a switch and felt the hum of the repulsors beneath the cockpit floor as the _Glory _shot into Jinet's atmosphere. Artificial gravity kicked in with a stomach-churning lurch as the sublights wrenched the ship free of the planet's orbit, and she pushed the hyperdrive switch forward.

Stars stretched into lines as the universe distorted, and the _Glory_ shot towards the Maw.


End file.
